Thoughts on Eddie Aikau; Official or not, the spirit lives every winter

1998-12-09 04:00:00 PDT Honolulu, Hawaii -- The Eddie Aikau big-wave contest has had a tough decade. It's the event that never happens, more myth than reality, and each year some new phenomenon pushes it farther into the background: tow-in surfing, the Todos Santos contest, K2's $50,000 wave, the upcoming contest at Maverick's.

This winter, there's another unsettling development: Clyde Aikau, the man who embodies the very spirit of his brother's memory and Waimea Bay, has announced his retirement from the contest.

On a December afternoon of soft winds and warm vibes at the Honolulu Chart House, Aikau stunned the distinguished gathering with his announcement. He offered no reasons, merely saying he was "passing the torch" to Keone Downing, winner of the 1990 Aikau contest, to spearhead the annual pre-contest ceremony at Waimea Bay.

A few days later, the 51-year-old Aikau had this explanation: "It's time to turn this thing over to the kids. I need the time to concentrate on my business (running one of the beach services at Waikiki), and I feel this is the year for me to move on. It's a heavy thing -- but my mind is clear."

The contest has obviously been a disappointment to the Aikau family, meet director George Downing, Quiksilver and the Hawaiian surf community. Nothing could be more satisfying than an annual gathering of the best big-wave riders, cascading down 20-25-foot waves at Waimea on a sunny day with offshore winds. I was lucky enough to attend the '90 contest, when the conditions matched that blueprint, and to this day it's the greatest sporting event I've ever seen.

As the sun went down that night, and people celebrated the incredible bravado of Brock Little, Richard Schmidt, Tony Moniz and the flawless Downing, nobody could have imagined that the curtain was coming down. Waimea failed to produce the proper conditions again until December of '95, when the contest began in gorgeous, 20-foot surf but had to be terminated, around halfway through, with the swell in regression. And it hasn't been held since. For an event that began in 1986, two-and-a-half Eddies is a lamentable track record.

Expectations were high for last winter, but nearly every El Niño storm focused directly on Northern California, where the hardy Maverick's crew witnessed some of the biggest, most terrifying surf in memory. Waimea did get one monster swell, on the unforgettable Big Wednesday of Jan. 28, but of all things, it was TOO big. As George Downing said with a smile as he explained the contest rules during the press conference, "The waves have to be at least 20 feet -- and under 40 feet."

If this were any other sport -- or any other surfing contest -- the Aikau would have been shut down by now. The sign would be posted: Cancelled Due to Lack of Interest. And yet the Aikau lives on, with the same blend of respect and anticipation that accompanied the inaugural event in February 1986. That is a tribute to the incomparable aura that surrounds big-wave surfing in Hawaii.

The press conference was a veritable Hall of Fame of vintage talent: Gerry Lopez, Darrick Doerner, Brian Keaulana, Barry Kanaiaupuni, Jeff Hakman, Dennis Gouveia and Joey Cabell, who founded the first Chart House (in Aspen) and runs the Honolulu restaurant. They listened with rapt attention as Downing made a sensitive, emotional address from the podium. On a given day at his surf shop, Downing can be abrupt and totally unapproachable. When paying tribute to Eddie Aikau and Hawaiian surf legends, he becomes eloquent and expansive.

"Waimea is the Mount Everest of the sea," he said. "And the bay calls the day. I'm just there to let everyone else know."

He pointed to the '98 edition of the Aikau poster, showing Eddie in his late 20s with a big-wave gun and his trademark red-and-white trunks. "Look at that poster long enough," said Downing, "and you see a glow coming from Eddie."

As you read this in Santa Cruz, Santa Barbara or Pennsylvania, perhaps you scoff. If you were in that room, you believed. You looked at the faces of those great men, lost in their memories, knowing what it means to have surfed gigantic waves together and to have shared Eddie's company. They looked at each other like war veterans; there was a glow and high emotion to the scene, the kind usually associated with an excess of alcohol. But this was a natural high, free of maudlin sloppiness.

When Doerner embraces Lopez, or Downing hugs Keaulana, it comes with clear eyes and 1,000 waves attached. And they are still surfing, all of them, either approaching their 50s or well past it. Surfing is for life, and the next swell is right around the corner.

The Aikau, as it turns out, happens every year. Sometimes the waves come, too.